


no one mourns the wicked

by Coshledak



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:11:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coshledak/pseuds/Coshledak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elsa makes the brave decision to venture to the Southern Isles to deal with trade in person, she fully plans to avoid Prince Hans. </p>
<p>However, after meeting his brothers and settling into her business with Queen Krista, she decides that she needs to see him to find her own closure with his actions. But things are stranger here on his home island than she could have predicted, and everyone seems to have secrets. On top of that, why are two of Hans' brothers so discomfited by the mirror in the depths of the castle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one mourns the wicked

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_No one mourns the wicked!_  
 _No one cries, “They won’t return!”_  
 _No one lays a lily on their grave._  
 _The good man scorns the wicked!_  
 _Through their lives, our children learn:_  
 _What we miss when we misbehave!_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, we’re almost there. Once you get on that boat, there’s no turning around!”

It was meant to sound like a threat but Anna’s voice had never been the particularly threatening sort. She could certainly sound angry, and she was scary in her own right when she wanted to be. But her terror didn’t come from threats so much as her presence, the way she could carry herself through her own awkwardness. It was something Elsa admired most about her, even if the constant attempts to dissuade her from this trip over the past few weeks were getting redundant.

Elsa laughed gently, “That’s the idea, Anna.”

"An idea that I _still_ say is terrible," Kristoff pointed out. "Isn't it, Sven?" 

"It sure is, Kristoff!" 

"See! Sven agrees with me," he said, throwing his arms towards the reindeer and he looked desperately towards Anna. 

Elsa had gotten to know him rather well in the months that followed, which included many…quirks in his personality. She hadn’t failed to immediately see the connection between him and Anna, but the reindeer thing took more adjusting to. Now, though, she found it to be rather endearing. Still peculiar, but, well, the charming sort of peculiar. 

“I’m sure he does,” she answered. They arrived to the docks just as the last of her bags were being loaded onto the ship, letting her turn to face her company. The look on Anna’s face had changed so much over the days since Elsa announced her intent to travel to the Southern Isles. At first disbelief, then shocked _belief_ , then annoyance, then momentary indifference, onto staunch disapproval. Now it was concern, clear as ice.

“Are you sure you have to go…?” Anna asked quietly, reaching forward. Elsa let her take her hand—one of those small things that she knew in her heart she would never lose appreciation for—and squeeze it. “He tried to kill us both, Elsa. You have to admit, this is a pretty bad idea. I still don’t know why you didn’t cut off trade with them like Weaselton.”

Elsa felt an unusual anger boil in her stomach. The sort that only came up when she remembered that dark time that Anna was almost taken from her. She hadn’t forgotten whose scheming it was that led them to that terrifying moment.

“The Southern Isles is a key partner in our trade,” Elsa explained gently, laying her free hand over Anna’s. “We could afford to lose one trade partner, but the Southern Isles are too important. Besides, I’m sure I won’t even _see_ Hans.”

Anna snorted, an unladylike sound, but one so distinctly hers. “I’ll say. He’s _thirteenth_ in line.”

Elsa smiled, returning the earlier squeeze. “Exactly. I’ll write often, I promise, and won’t be gone more than a few weeks. Just long enough to have my meetings and establish the trade routes.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was sealed with a hug, tight and wonderful, before she let her sister go. One more hug for Kristoff, then another for Sven, and the promise to tell Olaf goodbye when he and Marshmallow got back from the day’s adventures. Then she was stepping onto the boat and underway to the Southern Isles, trying to ignore the knotting feeling in her stomach.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_Queen Elsa,_

_I write to you today not only as a queen, but as a mother, in apology for the actions of my son, Prince Hans. I assure you, his actions were his alone and not at all ordained by me, his brothers, or done on the behalf of the Southern Isles. I cannot begin to reason what came over him to try to take the lives of you and your sister, Princess Anna. I can only thank you for sparing and returning him home for his punishment._

_Treason is a high crime, and I assure you that his punishment will equal such a betrayal of our best partner in trade. I can only hope that you take that as retribution for his actions, and thank you again for trusting us to deal with his crime. His brothers have taken this charge very seriously, and he will never trouble you again._

_Queen Krista of the Southern Isles_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Ships were not an easy thing to traverse after the passing of her parents. Even seeing them pull into the harbor on the day of her coronation had been a challenge, bringing up more unwanted memories as if the day itself were not challenge enough. Braving the travel to the Southern Isles on a ship was a step forward that she knew she had to make. It didn’t do to be afraid of the water because of the shadows in her memories. Her life now was about living in the sun and light, which she was walking towards with conviction.

She could have done without the sea-illness, though.

On top of that, for the first two days, every rough wave caused ice to spread out from where she gripped the handrail. It took some time before she was able to keep herself calm, but, by the third day, she was beginning to appreciate the brackish air. By the fourth, she had her sea legs, though she still kept her diet to bread and freshwater at meals. Just to be safe.

On the fifth, they reached the Southern Isles. 

The Southern Isles shared in the late summer warmth a little more than their northern sister, Arendelle. The kingdom ruled over several islands that visibly spread out across the chilled sea, but the castle itself was located on the largest and most southern of the isles in the arrangement. Those two islands closest to the main one, to the east and west, were connected by two stretching bridges, but the rest needed to be accessed by boat. Because of this necessity for sea savvy, the Southern Isles was guarded by a powerful naval force, though its impressive ships rested on one of the smallest islands in its control to the north.

It was an impressive sight, and she found her stomach flipping and knotting with renewed nerves that had been lost to the priority of being on the sea. All at once it seemed to take forever and no time at all before the ship was making port and she was stumbling down the plank, relearning her “land legs,” as the captain called them. He was right, at least, because her ability to walk on land seemed to return soon enough.

The harbor bustled with life, sailors hauling traded goods to and fro, with plenty left to work on ship maintenance and restocking their own supplies. She was so distracted, she nearly missed the man waiting in front of her. In fact, she very well may have if he hadn’t spoken up.

“Queen Elsa?”

“Hm?” She blinked, distracted, and turned her head, nearly jumping out of her skin. The man in front of her shared almost every similarity with his younger brother.

“I’m Prince Holgar,” he explained, and his voice was soft and kind. It made her strikingly aware that she must have given away her alarm, so she schooled her expression. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

“Oh, no,” she answered, trying to laugh, though it sounded forced. “It was…I thought…nevermind.”

He offered his hand, and she let him take it, though the gentle kiss he pressed to the top of it seemed unnecessary. It was the sort of thing she was certain Anna would have swooned over before meeting Kristoff.

Now that she observed him more closely, though, his similarities with Hans were slight. They shared the tone of their auburn hair, but his was cut shorter and lighter. His nose was broader and his face well aged, but not old. Where Hans’ eyes were green, his were brown. His disposition was different, but she couldn’t pinpoint how. Though, when she tried to, she realized how little of an impression Hans’ own personality had left.

She shook the thought away, smiling as he went back to his full height from kissing her hand. “Shall we?”

He gestured to the carriage, already loaded with her bags, and helped her inside before following. The deep blue, velveteen curtains were already pulled back, leaving small windows through which to watch the port town bustle around outside them. Within a minute of closing the door, they were off towards the castle that awaited them at the highest point in the center of the island. 

“It’s been so long since we’ve had a royal visitor from Arendelle,” Holgar spoke up. “I’m sure some of my younger brothers don’t remember.”

“I’m not sure I remember,” she laughed. Judging based on his age, because he was certainly a decade older than her, at least, he could have been talking about a time before she was even born. 

“Regardless, we’re glad you decided to come sort out the trade in person,” he continued. Then, more somberly, “Particularly after what happened.”

Elsa straightened her own shoulders, resting her hands in her lap and forced her attention from watching the people outside. “Actually, it’s precisely because of that, that I decided to come do this in person. We need to show that Arendelle and the Southern Isles remain allies in spite of Hans’ actions.”

He looked at her for a moment, as though impressed by her reasoning, before his face resolved to a smile and his head tilted in a single nod. “I agree, Your Majesty. It seems that even these three months have not failed to turn you into a fine, young queen for Arendelle.”

For that, she had to fight down a blush. Not for months had she thought her old mantra, but it came back to her in this moment. “Ah, thank you.”

The trip was not a long one, even with the streets so busy and full of life. She didn’t have a moment to take it all in before they were pulling through the palace gates. The courtyard was as large as the one back home, with a single fountain in the center, around which the carriage pulled to park them in front of the stairs. The stone was deep gray and old, but held together with careful care and maintenance over the years. As Holgar helped her out of the carriage, she briefly saw the arrangement of four people on the steps.

“Queen Elsa,” the only female of the group said, in a voice of regality and composure. “Welcome to the Southern Isles.”

Queen Krista was a woman who carried her age as a compliment. Tall and slight, her body did nothing to shy away from the demand for attention that she drew. Clothed in a flowing dress of deep purple with gold accents, she stood towards the middle of the short stairs, her hand resting with gentle power on the arm of another of her sons. This one shared her brown hair and brown eyes.

Elsa bowed her head respectfully, “Your Majesty.”

“Please, there’s no need for such formalities. Call me Krista, I insist,” she answered. “Come inside! You must be hungry and tired from your trip.”

The two other brothers—twins, she noticed—stepped down the stairs to help the staff with her trunks. Holgar again offered his arm, and she took it, using her free hand to lift her dress out of the way to begin up the stairs.

Inside the castle was even grander than the outside. The foyer immediately led to a large staircase that branched off four times: once halfway to the top, to the left and right, and once more in the same method at the top. All directions led to balconies that lined the hall, heading back into hallways that she was sure she would never be able to master in her short stay. Curtains were drawn back and windows open, letting in the sea air, slightly warmed by summer. 

“The boys will take your things to your room. You can retire after you’ve had something to eat,” Krista insisted. 

On Holgar’s arm, she followed the queen out to a spacious veranda that overlooked the bay and let herself be helped into a seat. Tiers of three silver trays were set up on the table, loaded with meats, fish, bread, and cake. Though perhaps not the noblest thing, Elsa was glad that Krista seemed more interested in letting her eat than immediate conversation. She had been starved for something besides bread after such a long trip.

With both their stomachs a little more settled, the conversation began, but remained benign. Elsa shared the few acceptable details of her trip, shared the vague beginnings of her ideas for trade, and, in return, was invited to share what she would like to see during her stay.

“Oh, trips like these mustn’t be all business, my dear,” Krista said, giving a knowing smile. “If you focus only on the business, then you miss all the chances to _experience_. To _learn_. That should be the goal of such a young queen. To make new discoveries.”

Elsa smiled, bowing her head again, “Thank you, Krista.”

They finished their meal and, full on delicious food and warm tea, Holgar showed Elsa to her room.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_My dearest sister,_

_I’ve arrived safely in the Southern Isles. It’s beautiful here! I’m sure you would love it, and, if all goes well, I think we should make another visit together sometime soon. I’ve only just arrived, so it’s too early to say, but Queen Krista is very hospitable. She’s said she wants me to make the very most of this trip, and that’s my intention. I agree with her that I should be using this experience to my advantage to grow as a ruler of Arendelle._

_When I arrived, Hans’ older brother, Holgar, was there to greet me. I nearly froze him thinking he was his brother! Thankfully, I kept my head. He’s nothing like Hans at all, from what I’ve seen of him._

_Speaking of Hans, I’ve yet to see him, even at the dinner we had the night I arrived. I counted only twelve sons eating with us. It seems like I may have been more right than I first thought about not encountering him on this visit. For some reason, though, not even seeing him at dinner has given me an uneasy feeling. I wonder why…I suppose it might just be leftover exhaustion from the trip that’s making it hard to keep my head straight._

_I look forward to your reply, and I hope all is well at home. Please, don’t worry too much about me._

_Your sister,  
Elsa_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Somehow, Anna’s comment that Hans was thirteenth in line hadn’t registered until she saw the reality. Twelve people, twelve _lives_ ahead of his own. It was an impressive number, to say the least. At dinner on her first night, she met each one of them, though she was certain it would take her the whole of the visit to remember their names.

Holgar was the eldest, and shared the most resemblance with Hans. The one who had been standing with Queen Krista upon her arrival was Berwald, the second eldest. They were followed then by Ari, who was followed by Lukas, then Konrad, then Jonas, then Mikael, then Johannes, and then Peter. The twins were Dietrich and Gunther (Dietrich being slightly older by a handful of minutes), followed by Ludvig, then, finally, Hans, who had not been present at any meal. Or at all, that Elsa could tell. She hadn’t even seen him about the castle when she wandered in her first few days, sometimes on purpose and sometimes lost on her way to her room.

It was at one such occurrence—being lost, that is—when she ran into the twins and was offered an impromptu tour of the castle. They seemed never to be separated from one another, either, though somehow the trait didn’t strike her as odd. The two were completely identical, and she wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart at all if not for one defining trait: the burn scars.

Dietrich’s left forearm had a gash of a burn scar from his wrist to his elbow along the outside. This burn was mirrored on Gunther’s right forearm, as if they’d both raised their arms to block the flames from reaching their faces. Though she was sure they would have been covered in the winter chill, the summer, was a different story. Neither of the men seemed all that bothered that the scars were visible. They were not particularly bad, either, though Elsa dreaded to think what could have caused such damage.

They were polite, if not somewhat secretive. Though they didn’t whisper around her, they seemed to have their own language. It wasn’t something they blatantly used to exclude her, so much as something they naturally slipped into when conversing casually around the castle. None of the other brothers seemed to know what they were saying, either. But she was given no side-glances or mischievous smiles, so she found it hard to worry. It was much like Kristoff’s speaking for Sven.

They showed her about the halls, which were certainly impressive. The castle looked to be bigger even than theirs in Arendelle, something she commented on as they made their way down a hallway lined with paintings. Apparently, she noticed, Holgar and Hans shared their rare hair color with their deceased father, King Friedrich. Pictures of him hung all around, resembling the ones they had of her father back in Arendelle.

But the castle was not only long and wide, it was also deep, carved well into the hill it rested on like hollow, square roots. Though she was certain she didn’t need to be shown the lower areas, Dietrich and Gunther assured her that it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as it seemed.

“It’s mostly storage for antiques,” Dietrich said.

“And the library,” Gunther finished helpfully.

It was certainly well lit, at least, which chased away the dank and eerie feeling that came with being underground. They showed her most of the rooms here, unlike those above ground that were primarily “boring bedchambers for guests,” as the twins described. As sure as she was that she would never visit these lower levels again, there was plenty to be impressed with.

Through trade and exploration, the royal family of the Southern Isles had come to procure quite a bit of lovely artwork. Pots, statues, paintings…all of it masterfully displayed and meticulously cared for. The library was much the same, with rows upon rows of books, many in languages that Elsa didn’t even recognize in spite of being well read in their own library back home. As they walked, the twins talked about nearly everything they knew and recognized, as though they had memorized the origins of the artwork and every book in the library’s collection.

Finally, they reached the end hallway, which would have been of no note, except that the twins paused before the large door, as though considering whether or not to step inside or to simply take the stairs to their immediate left. They seemed to have a conversation without speaking or looking to each other at all. 

“Is…there a problem?” She asked after a beat.

“No,” Dietrich said.

“This room just—”

“—it has a bad feeling, is all.”

Elsa blinked, looking to the door in front of them, which seemed no more or less ominous than those they had just passed through. “Oh?”

“It’s the Mirror Room,” Gunther explained. 

“There’s really nothing that bad about it—”

“—we just like to avoid it because—”

“—it’s creepy.”

Strangely, the more the twins talked about it, the more the door seemed to warp to their description. It shifted before her eyes even as she looked at it, the shadows growing and shifting, curving to nail-like points. A wary feeling started to bubble in her own chest, making small particles of frost and ice flick from her fingertips before she crossed her arms. But, at the same time, a curiosity grew.

“I can glance in by myself, if you like.”

Dietrich turned to look at her, “What?”

Gunther soon followed. “No! Absolutely not.”

“We’ll escort you.”

“It’s what we’re here for.”

Seeming resolved to be good hosts, above everything else, Dietrich reached forward to push open the door. Unlike with the others, they did not both step aside to allow Elsa in first. Rather, Dietrich stepped in first to hold the door, and Gunther followed. That only stirred the uneasy feeling in Elsa’s stomach, and she tightened her fingers around the sleeves of her dress. It was as though they were trying to protect her from something that neither of them knew how to defeat.

Although reason told her that the room was just as well lit as the hall had been, it seemed dimmer somehow. It was large and circular, with evenly pillars six feet in from the walls. They were evenly spaced around the room to support the ceiling. In the very center of the room hung a mirror. 

Its surface was polished and clear, somehow seeming to reflect the room without reflecting it at the same time. The glass seemed brighter, glossed over, like it was impossible to get a clear image in it, but something told her that stepping closer would put every image into sharp clarity. Its frame was dark wood, elegantly carved with ridges and painted with keen curves that danced in the flickering torch light. Into the left and right sides, halfway down its height, deep in the wood, were metal rings that attached to chains that suspended it from two opposing pillars. It seemed, immediately, as though such an arrangement should not have been possible by the means of gravity.

At once Elsa understood the twin’s unease, because the mirror struck a powerful and terrible awe inside her. She was seeing something so impossibly beautiful that it felt like it was never meant to exist. The room dropped several degrees around them, but she didn’t notice until Gunther spoke up. 

“Queen Elsa?”

She startled, realizing how difficult it was to pry her eyes from the mirror. “I’m sorry.”

“We should go, yes?” Gunther looked to Dietrich, who nodded.

“Yes.”

So, go they went. But Elsa could not stop herself from glancing over her shoulder once more at the mirror, as though it had a gravity all its own that pulled her eyes. The same gravity that allowed it to suspend there, perfectly balanced, against all law and reason. Though, just as she turned forward again, she thought she saw a flit of movement in its glassy surface.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

A week in the Southern Isles and business was well underway. It seemed that Queen Krista was on board with many of Elsa’s plans, particularly those that helped them to get around the lack of support from Weaselton. The Southern Isles had another supplier of those goods imported by Weaselton, and would carry a stock of them along with their own goods for trade in Arendelle. Now all that was left to reason were the changes in trade routes and upcoming stocks of supplies for bartering.

For that entire week, she had not seen Hans once. What struck her as odd was more that she should _care_. Hadn’t he, after all, tried to kill her and her sister to steal Arendelle for himself? Hadn’t he nearly succeeded in killing Anna? Even as someone left unfazed by cold, she could still feel Anna’s frozen face against her palms, looking into the eyes of an icy statue. That had been her fault in part, but what was worse was the question of how big a part Hans played. She had frozen Anna’s heart, but how deeply was his treason woven?

She realized, late at night, unable to sleep as those questions buzzed around her mind, that her desire wasn’t so much one to see Hans. Not in the way one wanted to see a familiar face and verify that a person was alright. No, she wanted answers. She wanted to understand him and his actions in a way that she couldn’t with what limited information she had. It was strange, though, the way those memories warped around him. Although she hadn’t known him very well, it was like there was a veil in front of him even in what she could remember. His actions stuck out like jagged ice, but the man behind them…it was as though he wasn’t quite there. The way a reflection was only real in the moments you stood looking at it.

It appeared that she was not the only one surprised by her request to see Hans. When she presented it to Holgar, his expression shifted, first to surprise, but then to the sort of gentle firmness that came with a refusal. Elsa raised her hand, “I’m afraid I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Queen Elsa—”

“I just need to understand,” she explained, folding her fingers together in front of her. “I need to understand why he did what he did.”

Holgar looked away, at something outside of his immediate vision, and sighed. “My brother is not the easiest person to understand.” She stood, watching his features, waiting for the first sign that she needed to insist again, but it didn’t come. Instead he looked back at her, his expression defeated, “But, I suppose you have as much right to try as any of us.”

Hans’ room turned out not to be in any of those that the twins had shown her on their tour. Or, at least, not so blatantly in any of those rooms. 

At first, she suspected him to be kept in some sort of tower, but then she recalled that the castle had no particular towers like the one she envisioned. Her next thought was a dungeon, but they didn’t go in the direction of the stairs that descended to the basement. Holgar led her to his own chambers, of all places. It was lavishly decorated in swaths of maroon and blue, in a hallway that contained the separate bedrooms of all his other brothers as well, though, in the week since she’d arrived, several had returned to their own duties, wives, and families. 

“You must promise not to speak of this place to anyone else,” he said, turning to her once the door of his room was closed. 

Once again that feeling of unease returned, the same that she had standing before that mirror, but she nodded to him. “I swear.”

He looked at her for a long moment, as though deciding whether or not he could trust her, before turning to cross the room to a wall adorned with a maroon drape. He moved it aside and pressed some stone she couldn’t see, followed by the heavy sound of machinery and grinding of stone against stone. 

“The door only opens from the outside,” he explained. Elsa felt her ice swirl under her skin, waiting to burst out.

The room inside was small, but well-furnished in the light from the candelabra scattered throughout. A rectangular table, set with two candelabra and a slew of books, set in the middle of the room. An empty plate and goblet sat on its corner, closest to the door, as if waiting for someone to pick it up and carry it to the kitchen to be cleaned. A second maroon drapery, like the one adorning the wall that shielded the door, hung from the ceiling along the far left corner, the foot of a bed visible just beyond its slanted edge. In the opposite corner from it was a plush armchair and ottoman, on which rested a slouched body, its feet propped up and crossed neatly at the ankle. The only window in the room was a small one that looked out towards the courtyard. 

“Well, Queen Elsa,” Hans said, not moving from his spot in the chair. Dusts of snow and ice particles flew from her fingertips at the faux charm of his voice. “Don’t be shy.”

Her fingers curled into her palms, and only then did she realize how they were trembling slightly, “Hans.”

From between his gloved fingers, his eyes cut sideways towards her, head propped against his hand. “I was told that you’d be visiting us,” he chuckled, and somehow it was a dark sound, “But I can’t say I was expecting a visit myself.”

Although she’d learned of Hans’ plans from Anna, she hadn’t discussed much with him herself. The anger he aroused in her, the betrayal, was purely on the behalf of her sister, she was sure. But that didn’t abate it in the slightest. Anna had been her everything, the only light worth struggling towards in all this time, and the fact that Hans had nearly taken her away…

As if on some cue outside both of them, he shifted, sitting up. “How’s Anna?”

What startled her was not the question, nor even the fact he seemed to read her mind. It was his _tone_. Not quite concerned, but not quite dismissive or oblivious. He didn’t dare ignore his own crimes for the sake of conversation, but his voice…it seemed to wrap around the anger inside her. It was like the flame inside her, flickering and cold, almost wanted to accept the constricting embrace that should have made it lash out harder. He sounded interested, almost gentle. Sincere, of all things.

“Safe.” As if the word shattered the spell of his tone, she snapped spitefully, “From _you_.”

He chuckled again, “She’s the one who punched me in the face. I’m not sure she needs you, with both of us days away by boat, to protect her from me.”

He stood up then. Though it wasn’t in alarm or anger, it felt sudden, and she froze for a moment, almost missing the sound of dull metal scraping stone. She almost looked over her shoulder but, no, it was coming, distinctly from in front of her. Out of the edge of her focus, she thought she saw him flinch, his shoulders tight. The relaxation that followed felt forced.

“Did my brother forget to tell you?” He reached down and lifted up some length of chain to show her. He dropped it again, kicking at it slightly, though with no aggression. “You can rest easy. It stops short just at the far edge of that table.”

“We both know that your fighting skill isn’t what makes you dangerous,” she answered coolly. His smile was a sharp cut on his profile as he walked to the window. “Why did you do it?”

“I thought Anna would have told you.”

“You could have married into another country, into our country, if you’d _truly_ loved my sister, like you claimed.” She watched him as he folded his hands behind his back, attention turned out the window. “You didn’t have to kill us.”

“And been what? The husband to a princess? If I wanted that kind of pointless title, then I would have stayed in the Southern Isles as the Invisible Thirteenth Prince,” he answered.

For the first time since the conversation began, Holgar spoke up, taking a step forward, ready to argue, “Brother…”

Hans smiled, a bitter expression that Elsa could only see in his reflection in the window, “Spare me, would you?”

Elsa intervened, taking a half-step forward herself. “So that was really it? That was your plan? Kill me? You still would have only been the king regent to Anna.”

“Nothing an unfortunate accident couldn’t fix.”

“You—”

The limits of her control were pushed too far, and the floor froze over the second she splayed out her hand. But rather than freezing the whole floor, she froze only a path straight to Hans, along the chain attached to his ankle, keeping him in place. He turned, but only just made it before blades of ice, sprung from the floor, threatened his neck. Hans tilted his head back and up to avoid it, only an inch from pressing to skin. As if she could cut the words, the lies, from his throat.

“ _No!_ ” It was Holgar’s voice that cracked through the ice. “Queen Elsa, stand down!”

She set her jaw, looking at Hans, but his face remained neutrally set. Indifferent.

“Why? All of this death, this blood on _your_ hands…for what? For power? Control?”

Holgar stepped in front of her then, and she nearly knocked him out of the way, but his voice snagged in her heart, “Elsa, _stop_. Please…he’s still my little brother.”

Her eyes danced between Holgar and his brother, hand still outstretched while the other formed a fist at her side. She didn’t want to. Standing here, looking at him as she did now, she wanted to follow the ice that threatened her heart. His aloof attitude, his disregard for Anna, the way he locked his problems outside…all of it. He’d be better off without a tongue at least, certainly—

She gasped, the burn of the thoughts washing over her, dropping her hand. The ice fell away, melted to nothing as though it hadn’t been there before, and she raised a hand up to her head. It felt like there was cotton in her pounding skull, unpleasant and dry. _Where had those thoughts come from?_

“I think it’s best that you go,” Holgar spoke up, and Elsa lifted her head to find him standing in front of his brother. Behind him, Hans looked out the window again as though nothing had happened, even as his brother’s eyes were alight in his defense. It was all she could do to nod, making her exit quickly back to her own room.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_She stood in the mirror room. It was dark, but the glass still seemed to carry its own light. Its own reflection, as though it were a window rather than a door. That same ill feeling arose in her again, the twins’ words circling around her head. Or, no, were they circling around the room?_

_Light flashed, a gleam across its surface. Her mind pulled forward that flutter of movement she saw the other day. What had it been? Had she only been seeing things, truly? Just the thought of remarking it as something so simple, so easily explained, made her feel like she was underestimating something so much greater than her._

_There! It moved again, too fast to see._

_She hesitantly took a step closer, hands forward, ready for something, but no inclination as to what it was she was waiting for. Words bubbled in her throat, waiting to spill over, but, like bubbles, they were incoherent and garbled her voice in her throat. They choked her, but she kept moving. She had to know if it was just a trick of the light._

_Then, as if wanting nothing more than to answer her curiosity, a great shadow swelled up in the glass, blocking out its own aura of light. Red eyes gleamed from the blob of smoke and ill-feeling, seeming to roll around in the mass before coming into focus on her. Only her. It rocked her to the core, touched her with such heat that she felt like she was freezing, and, not a day in her life had she feared the cold like this._

_On instinct, on self-defense impulse, blasts of ice shot from her hands, crystalizing over the surface, but she kept going. She pushed until the mirror cracked, exploding into so many pieces and spilling out that same heat. She gagged on it, like sticking her head into a fire, and fell to the floor, gasping around the heat._

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Holgar seemed to avoid her for some time after what happened with Hans. It took effort to track him down after meals, where it was inappropriate to speak of what had happened without knowing who it was who knew. She could guess that he went to spend some of his time with Hans but, with the room branched off from his bedchambers, it never seemed appropriate to follow him there. Finally, she had to concede to cheating, temporarily freezing his boots to the floor when no one was in sight.

“I would’ve thought you were too old for the silent treatment,” she pointed out gently.

“Think again,” he answered. “I still grew up with twelve younger siblings.”

She sighed. He was not, exactly, being delicate about his remaining annoyance and distrust. She couldn’t blame him. She had all but promised that she would keep her head level during that visit, and she had failed. She had nearly killed Hans, and that urge in her head…the further she moved from that day, the more it scared her. 

When she looked back, all she could see was the darkness that swallowed her mind. She couldn’t remember what Hans had said or done, just the sudden, powerful urge to make him stop talking. She wanted so badly to silence him that she was ready to do anything it took, even if it meant…no. That wasn’t who she was. It wouldn’t have scared her so much to look back if she was capable of such a thing. She shook the thoughts away. 

“I wanted to apologize,” she explained. “I lost control of myself. I don’t know what happened. All of the sudden it was like…” She frowned, dropping her eyes as she tried to think, tried not to divulge the violent urge that had almost overtaken her. “It was like every fear and every hurt just swelled up inside me because of what he said. I wanted him to stop talking…”

“As if just making him stop would fix everything,” he finished, the words more understanding than suggestion. Surprised, she looked at him, before hesitantly nodding. “I know. He has that effect on people.”

She shook her head, “He didn’t when I first met him…or Anna…anyone in Arendelle those few months ago. He was nothing but—”

“Charming and charismatic.”

“…yes.”

Holgar shook his head, looked down the hallway as if he could see something unsolvable at the end of it. “That’s why I’ve hidden him away for now. When he first arrived back here following your coronation, my younger brothers had already arrived, save Konrad and Lukas. Berwald, Ari, and I are so much older than Hans, we were on with our adult lives by the time he was talking. But my younger brothers…

“For a while they took some joy in his abuse when he returned. Mostly berating his actions, a lot of shouting, talk of lashing him, of locking him away, even exile.” Her heart jumped up to her throat, but the story didn’t seem as if it would improve if Holgar’s grim expression were anything to go by. “After a while, it got worse. They only seemed to be getting angrier the more they were around him…one day, I heard a few talking about execution.”

Knowing that it was the proper punishment for treason didn’t ease the blow of the word. Elsa didn’t want to think of anyone, even as someone as warped as Hans, being killed. And by his own brothers, nonetheless. That couldn’t possibly be right.

“I convinced them that I sent him into seclusion until we could decide on a proper punishment,” he continued. 

“But…then you hid him here.”

Holgar nodded. “Time seems to help, but I’m not sure it’ll last much longer. The twins are the only other two who know the truth, but I don’t even risk them spending too much time alone with him. If either one of them changes their vote…”

“Their vote?”

He looked at her with a nod and, for the first time, his eyes seemed truly tired around the edges, as though he spent his nights guarding Hans’ room rather than sleeping. 

“On Hans’ execution.” 

Her eyes widened. 

Holgar looked away, “We’re split evenly down the middle, with Hans’ vote withheld. If a single person changes their vote, it could save his life…or end it.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_Elsa,_

_I’d love to visit the Southern Isles with you! Except, you know, for that whole murderous ex-fiancé living there thing. That seems like a big bummer on the get-away plans to me. But you never know! Maybe Kristoff will appreciate the sea breeze and ignore the psychopathic prince ex thing. (Probably not. No.)_

_I’m glad things are going well there, and I hope Queen Krista appreciates your business savvy. Are the other brothers nice? I mean, I don’t know how they could be much worse than Hans, but are they? Better, I mean. They’d better be taking good care of you there. I can’t wait until you come home. Everything is fine here. Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf are worried. Olaf’s sorry that he wasn’t here to see you off._

_I wish you wouldn’t think about him. Just stay away from him, Elsa. He’s dangerous. Just stay away from him and come home soon._

_All my love,  
Anna_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“ _Delightful!_ ” Queen Krista cheered, clapping her hands together. “You’re truly a gift, my dear.”

Elsa felt the tips of her ears threaten to burn, though she was certain she didn’t actually blush due to the slight chill of her skin. She’d only had three months to practice with her powers openly, but she’d held better control over them in those three months than she had for her whole life. It was because of that control that she didn’t mind displaying her abilities now, making delicate statues of ice from the bowl of sweet punch on the table.

“Th-thank you,” she stumbled, sitting down and leaving the delicate sculpture to cool the bowl. 

“I’m glad you stepped forward to embrace your abilities, Elsa. They’re absolutely beautiful.”

The compliments were still something she was getting used to. After all the grief her powers had caused her over the years, it was difficult still to embrace their beauty. But she was trying, and it was easier in small doses.

She used the ladle to spoon some punch into her goblet, taking a sip. It was incredibly good, though far more sweet than anything she was used to. She picked up one of the truffles on her tray, taking a small bite out of it and chewing thoughtfully. But soon her thoughts were trickling in another direction, the same direction that they had been heading since her meeting with Hans. Since even before that.

“Krista…” Her fingers fiddled around the cup, thumb tracing the rim. “I had a question about…about Hans.”

Something shifted in the air, becoming stiffer, but not choked off. Krista’s voice was smooth, concerned, but Elsa had the feeling it was more for her benefit than her son. “What is it? He hasn’t done something else, has he?”

“No, no,” Elsa answered, reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “Nothing like that. I was just wondering, with the letter that you wrote me…what did you determine his punishment should be…?”

A silence settled between them, so indistinct that it was hard to determine its exact source or purpose. That same edge of wariness that aroused around the mirror came up now, though fainter, like something was moving just beyond the edge of her vision that she couldn’t quite see. But what could it be?

“I’m afraid that’s not up to me,” she replied, and the words were almost delicate, as though she were afraid to say them. “His punishment has been left to his brothers to decide.”

“His brothers…?”

“Holgar is next in line to rule, and Berwald after him,” she explained, turning her attention across the bay. “Ari through Mikael have married into ruling throughout our allies and earned us allies as well. Johannes has commanded many through two wars alongside Peter. Dietrich and Gunther are accomplished admirals of our naval fleet, and Ludvig is a practiced scholar and traveler. They’re all of sound judgment, ruled by their heads rather than their hearts.”

Elsa’s fingers tightened on her goblet, “But isn’t the punishment of one of their own…their _brother_ …at least somewhat a matter of the heart?”

“And would it not be a matter of the heart for his mother as well?”

The look in the queen’s eyes stopped her from further argument. She had only thought of how hard it would have been for her to punish Anna, regardless of her crime. Anna, her little sister, who she had done everything to protect, even though it meant pushing her away for so long. It could only be as hard for his brothers.

Couldn’t it?

Elsa dipped her head slightly, “I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way…”

She smiled benevolently, “Why should you? You lost your own parents when you were so young, it stands to reason that your mind would go first to the bond between siblings.”

“That’s no excuse—”

“Think nothing of it, Elsa,” she said, and the dismissal in her tone was only genuine. Elsa could only think to nod, dropping her eyes back down to her goblet with a gentle sigh. “I only wish…”

She paused, and there was some twitch in Elsa’s fingers to reach out and touch her hand, resting on the table as it was. She seemed like she needed some sort of strength, some compassion or understanding. Whatever words rested on her tongue were clearly heavy…but her fingers dug into her own palm, instead, her voice soft. “Wish what…?”

She shook her head, as if trying to banish the thought, but it wouldn’t go. When their eyes met again, Krista’s seemed to be glittering slightly. “I shouldn’t say.”

Elsa drew in a breath, pulling her shoulders up slightly to fill her whole body with air, before letting it out softly. “You can trust me…I promise.”

This time, it was the queen who reached over to take Elsa’s hand, smiling at her sadly. “That letter I wrote you was not entirely honest, I’m afraid.”

“Wh-what do you mean…?”

Krista’s sigh shook softly as she breathed out, reaching her other hand up, trembling, to tuck some hair behind her ear. “I’ve no idea where Hans is.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_”Don’t be the monster they think you are!”_

_She stood in front of the mirror, too far away to see anything but its glassy surface. Now she realized what had seemed so odd before…that the mirror didn’t seem to reflect the room. It was certainly a mirror, not a window, but it stood apart. As though it had forgotten its only function and chose, instead, to stand apart. If not for the terrible aura about it, that sense of deepening wrong, it might have been beautiful._

_Drawing a deep breath, she stepped forward, closer, close enough until she felt as though she should see herself, but it wasn’t herself she saw._

_“Your sister is dead…because of you.”_

_The words sent a chill through her heart, panic swelling with every breath she drew in, but no. No! She hadn’t killed Anna. She was alive and well in Arendelle, with Kristoff…wasn’t she? Yes, she was. She remembered Anna there as she left for the Southern Isles, nervous for her sister and the outcome of the trip._

_“No,” she answered, ignoring the shake in her voice. “No, I-I didn’t. But you almost did! You almost killed me!”_

_Hans brought his hand up, pressing his fingers down his own chest, his eyebrows raised, “Did I?”_

_The question unsettled her for a reason she didn’t know, but her conviction held. “Yes.”_

_“Are you sure it wasn’t just a reflection?”_

_The mirror cracked, and she took a step back._

_“What—”_

_Hans laughed as it splintered, lines appearing down the length and width of the glass. His image and laughter distorted with each new fracture that appeared, lines multiplying upon lines until, finally, it seemed to burst. Glass crumbled to the ground at her feet, but his laughter, almost manic now, continued._

\--------------------------------------------------------------

She woke up in the middle of the night, too late to bother Holgar, so she paced about her room, took a bath, got dressed, and rested on her balcony. Her mind reeled with images from the dream even as it slipped through her fingers like so much snow. It seemed to take forever for the sun to rise, and she found herself suddenly missing the winter lights of Arendelle.

Although she could have tracked Holgar down before breakfast, it seemed inappropriate, and she made herself wait. That included waiting for the right time to ask, which was not, as she had promised already, in front of his brothers or mother. After everyone dispersed, she followed him a short ways as he headed about his business, shoving down the anxiety twisting in her stomach that was making ice form along the walls. In retrospect, that was probably the reason he turned before she called out his name.

“You didn’t tell me that your _mother_ didn’t know Hans was here.”

Holgar flinched, curling his fingers into his palms. “I thought it was implied when I said the twins were the only other two who knew.” He lifted his eyes to her again, slightly panicked. “You didn’t—”

Elsa shook her head. “I didn’t tell her, but I don’t understand why _you_ haven’t told her.”

He sighed, reaching up to rub his eyes. “It’s difficult to explain, and a long story. The point is that she doesn’t know, and I’d rather you not tell her.”

Elsa looked at him sternly in spite of their age difference, biting her tongue both literally and figuratively. Finally she relented with a sigh.

“Fine, but…I need to speak with your brother again,” she explained, feeling the words tumble out of her mouth in a rush.

Holgar blinked, then frowned. “I thought you said your piece the last time?”

“I-I know,” she said, wringing her hands and glancing to the side. “I thought I did. But I’m not done. I need to talk to him.” Her eyes lifted to his. “And I need to talk to him alone.”

“No.”

“Please!” She stepped around him before he could walk away from her. “If I stand out of his range, then he won’t even be able to reach me. There’s nothing in that room for him to use as a weapon—”

Holgar laughed, but it was a humorless sound, “You think I’m worried about him hurting you? Chained up in that room with—with books! And after what happened last time! Are you mad?”

Elsa blinked and straightened, lowering her hands. _But isn’t the punishment of one of their own…their brother…at least somewhat a matter of the heart?_

“N-No. No! I know that…” She took a breath, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “I understand that you want to protect your brother…but I’m not asking this to hurt him. I promise you,” she resolved, meeting Holgar’s eyes. There was a fierceness in them, the sort that said he would sooner be the second prince of the Southern Isles to threaten her life than let her harm his brother. “If I wanted to harm him, I could have already done so even with your supervision.”

He remained silent.

“Holgar, _please_. You must have trusted me before, or else you wouldn’t have shown me where he was,” she reasoned. “I just need to talk to him.”

He observed her for a few long minutes, the silence lingering heavily. Just as his shoulder sank, her heart lifted. “You’re not wrong.”

She reached her hand forward to his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “You’re a good brother, Holgar. A better one to him than I was a sister to Anna.”

He smiled, but it was tired along its edges, “I find that hard to believe.”

Something lingered on the fringe of his words, something she couldn’t decipher or understand, but she let it go, feeling that questioning it would have been wrong somehow.

Instead, she followed Holgar to his room and to Hans. 

He was up this time when she arrived, several tomes collected in his palm as he rearranged the stacks on the table. His eyes were disinterested when he lifted them, but that quickly changed, his thin lips pulling into a smile. 

“Queen Elsa. I wasn’t expecting another visit.” He glanced over her shoulder as the door slid closed behind her. “And such a _private_ one. To what do I owe the honor?”

The chain attached to his ankle slid along the floor as he moved around the table, setting the stack in a corner and moving to collect another. In spite of the seclusion of the room, he was still fully dressed, in an outfit simpler than the one she’d seen at the coronation. Or, at least, it seemed simpler. 

She took a breath, staying near the door. The chain only just let him reach the window, and didn’t extend beyond the far edge of the table closest to the door. She was at least an arm outside his furthest ability to reach her. But what struck her now, as it had on their first meeting, was the thought that she’d need such a thing. Hans was, on simple observation, not physically dangerous. No, it was his words. The way he could spin them, could change himself, everything he was…that was dangerous. And that was something a chain could not hold back.

She steeled her resolve, curled her fingers against her palm to stifle the cold that stirred just beneath the skin, “How did you do it?”

“I thought we discussed this—”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, you told me _why_. _How_? How did you trick Anna? Trick everyone?”

He chuckled, observing the spines of one of the books, “Trick you?”

She narrowed her eyes, but kept herself calm, “I had bigger problems than you that night.”

“Isn’t that always the case?” He dropped a second stack of books down on the table and picked up a lone tome, but he thumbed through this one with meticulous care. “People always have bigger problems, something more important than what’s right in front of their eyes.”

“Just tell me _how_.” Her patience was running thin.

“I did,” he answered, snapping the book shut and looking at her. His eyes flashed, but she could see him holding back the same as she was. “People are always looking for something. For themselves, but without the flaws and insecurities. It’s the only thing they’re willing to listen to: _themselves_. If you give them that, then they’ll listen to anything.”

She remained silent for several moments, trying to decipher his words, before her eyes widened. “How?”

He raised a brow, “I had twelve brothers and seventeen years to practice. It wasn’t so hard.”

Elsa shook her head, leaned back against the door as though all the air had been knocked from her lungs. His lack of impression upon her, the way he fooled all of them…it made sense. There was nothing genuine, not a flaw or quirk, to remain imprinted on the mind. 

“You…you copied us?”

“No.” His smile was saccharine and cruel. “Simply reflected.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_And goodness knows_  
 _The wicked’s lives are lonely_  
 _Goodness knows_  
 _The wicked die alone_  
 _It just shows, when you’re wicked,_  
 _You’re left only on your own_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_My dear Anna,_

_I’m glad that things are well at home. I hope you’re taking good care of the kingdom, too, and not spending all of your time with Kristoff. You have responsibilities, too, you know, while I’m away from Arendelle. You need to take care of our home until I come back._

_Hans’ brothers are very nice. Two of them—twins—Dietrich and Gunther, gave me the tour of the castle. They’ve been kind to me, and I enjoyed properly seeing the city from someone who knows their way around. I hope that you’ve stopped worrying so much and that my letters help to abate some of your fears about this trip. I hope this mostly so what I have to say next won’t upset you too much._

_Something isn’t right here, Anna. I’ve been to see Hans twice now, and he gives me an ill feeling, but not for the reasons you may think. Something’s wrong with him. There’s this mirror they have hidden underneath the castle…_

_I don’t know why, but I need to figure this out. Whatever ‘this’ is. Maybe not for Hans, but for myself._

_I’ll be home soon, I promise._

_Take care,  
Elsa_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Aside from Hans’ room, no part of the castle had been claimed as off limits to her wandering. She avoided the corridor that many of the brothers occupied, though that seemed necessary as the place was personal. She hadn’t yet figured out where Queen Krista slept, but it was easy to push from her mind. After all, she couldn’t be faulted for accidentally stumbling upon her chambers if she hadn’t known where they were. The twins hadn’t deemed it important enough to note.

Having been in the Southern Isles for nearly two weeks, she had taken great joy in walking around the large port town it was surrounded by. Berwald had taken time to show her the joined islands, and travel on the bridges was incredible, watching the water stretch out in all directions, so different from the fjord back home. She found a beautiful dress for Anna at one of the shops, a sturdy, warm tunic for Kristoff, a new bridle with an intricate pattern of vines and flowers for Sven, and flowers unlike any seen in Arendelle for Oalf (though with those she was careful, to be sure they could withstand their harsher winters). 

But the shopping and sights didn’t distract her mind at night. It buzzed instead with cryptic visions of the mirror. Some, but not all, featured Hans as well, never outside of the mirror, but always with something dark to say. None of it made any sense, but she found her thoughts wandering more and more to that mirror beneath the castle.

Finally her curiosity would no longer relent, and she solidified the decision to see it again in her mind. The only matter was finding time away from Queen Krista and any of her sons. The twins were always ready with something new to show her, more offers of entertainment, and it felt rude to refuse. Meetings with the Queen were thinly dispersed with light chatter, and it was becoming clearer now that their business dealings were almost done. If she didn’t act soon, then there would be no time, and she had no excuse to draw out her visit.

It was late one night, into her third week, that she managed to sneak away. The walk felt like a betrayal of something, though she didn’t know what. It couldn’t be trust, because she had been given permission to roam the castle as she pleased. No, it was the secrecy behind her actions that aroused the discomfited feeling inside. There was no telling what she was onto, but it stirred a dark pit inside of her heart, like touching something that she knew she ought not to.

The notion that pressed her forward in spite of that feeling was the simple question if she could live with herself if she turned away. Could she set sail for Arendelle in short time and not feel as though a thread were pulling her back to the Southern Isles? To this castle? To that mirror hidden underneath it? Every question came back with a ‘no,’ and that was enough to press forward, even if forward was dark and unsettling.

The Mirror Room was right where it had been left, and she didn’t know why she should have thought it would be anywhere else. Its heavy door creaked on its hinges as she pushed it open, heavier than either of the twins made it look before, but not beyond her means. Inside, the torches were still lit, as though maintained by some unseen groundskeeper. Or something far more sinister that lingered in the shadows of the pillars.

She swallowed something heavy in her throat as she stepped inside, peering into the dark circle just beyond the pillars. This place had no windows, too far underground for such a thing, yet it seemed somehow darker knowing that it was night outside the castle walls. A silly, childish urge crawled up her spine to call into the dark, to say ‘hello’ as if something were there to listen and respond. Though, the unknown of how it would respond was enough to dissuade her. She drew a breath, pressed her lips together and forced her shoulders straight. Being afraid of the dark, of all things, was no behavior for a Queen of Arendelle.

But it would have been foolish to deny her own fear.

The mirror hung as it had before, perfectly balanced, and half of a foot off the ground in the center of the room. She walked closer, somewhat comforted that the silence of the room didn’t steal away the sound of her shoes on the stone.

It was not quite as it had been in her dream. When she stood in front of it, it reflected the room and her own image appeared, as it would in any mirror. Not sight nor sound of some twisted image of Hans and, when she stopped walking, the room fell into silence. Its glassed surface remained smooth, unmoving, but she noticed something now that she hadn’t before: 

Two impossibly small shards seemed to be missing. One just a little ways above her left shoulder, and the other several inches above her head. 

The holes were so small, it was more like the grains that had been used to make the mirror were missing, rather than shards. In the moment she noticed them, it became hard to look away, noticing the flaws in an otherwise perfect landscape. Something drew her hand up towards the one just above her shoulder, pulled by invisible strings. For a brief second she hesitated, but then continued her reach towards the small nick.

“Owch!” Before she touched it, a small prick seared through her finger, and she swiftly withdrew her hand. A light seemed to flash over the mirror, like a glare, as she turned away, cradling her hand.

A small cut formed on the tip of her middle finger, thin, but deep enough to draw the slightest blood. She hissed, using a slight frost on her thumb to smooth over it and sooth the pain.

“Are you okay?”

She startled at the first syllable, sucking in a gasp, and spun around again. Her leg went out from underneath her, and, in her panic, she scrambled backwards before her eyes settled. The pain in her finger forgotten temporarily at the intrusion of the voice that resounded from precisely behind her. But how? She’d been standing right in front of the mirror!

Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her.

A young boy, a child, with deep red hair and green eyes stood in front of her. The mirror’s frame like a door around him, his feet firmly planted on the stone but…no. The stone of a different place, a different room, exactly like the one she was in now. _He was inside the mirror._

She swallowed, heart pounding heavy in her chest, “Who…who _are_ you?”

He observed her for a moment, hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not it was safe for him to answer. His fingers rubbed together at his sides, like he was trying to warm them up, though it seemed no more than a fidget.

Finally, as he seemed to resolve that she was no threat, in a voice so much a child:

“I’m Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_Yes, Goodness knows,_  
 _The wicked’s lives are lonely_  
 _Goodness knows_  
 _The wicked cry alone_  
 _Nothing grows for the wicked_  
 _They reap only what they sow_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to my beta, @affectedline on Twitter.


End file.
